


You Look Like Therapy (Exactly What I Need)

by EzraTheBlue



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Banter, Developing Relationship, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Physical Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22206202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzraTheBlue/pseuds/EzraTheBlue
Summary: Noctis still struggles with the aftermath of his boyhood injury. When Gladio becomes aware, he finds ways to help his Prince that don't involve raising his shield or swinging his sword.(Or, Gladio learns about physical therapy to help Noctis.)
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 16
Kudos: 139





	You Look Like Therapy (Exactly What I Need)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScarlettArbuckle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettArbuckle/gifts).



> This was a request from ScarlettArbuckle, who is awesome! The request was for "Canonverse Gladnoct, but basically playing with the idea that Gladio, as Noct's trainer, also went into physical therapy to help him handle the stress/pain from his marilith injury. He wouldn't have been certified when they were younger, but when he's 20 or so he finishes certification - +++ if he kept it a secret from Noct as a surprise all this time."
> 
> Special thanks to Boogs for reading over this one for me! I touched it last, so any remaining errors are mine.
> 
> Enjoy!

**You Look Like Therapy (Exactly What I Need)**

Gladio had known it was there; always in the periphery. Some days at training, Noctis would favor one side too much, or he’d be dragging his feet more than usual. The first time Gladio really noticed him dragging his feet through the dust on the Glaives’ track, he rolled his eyes and shouted from his own starting blocks, where he’d finished his sprint thirty seconds ago:

“Come on, Noct, we’re doing sprints, not crawls!” Noctis, panting and wheezing, staggered a few more steps forward but still managed to shoot Gladio a dirty look. “You’re fourteen, not forty, now act like it!”

Sometimes, Gladio wondered if Noctis was trying to waste his time, but he knew Noctis better than that. Noctis didn’t just waste time for no good reason. He usually had some reason, it just wasn’t always obvious and Noctis was virtually never forthcoming.

Noctis dragged himself to the finish line, and Gladio hit his stopwatch. “You’re up fifteen seconds from your time two days ago." He shook the stopwatch. "Come on, you come in here, I expect you to give me your best. What, did Iggy let you have an extra slice of pizza after that last exam he kept you from flunking?”

Noctis didn’t manage a rude rebuke, instead dropping to a rough sit and grasping at his water bottle. He took a long swig, then raised his middle finger at Gladio. “First,” he muttered breathlessly, “Iggy says food isn’t a reward, ‘cause that’s not a healthy attitude to instill in children or whatever. Second, my physical therapist kicked my ass yesterday, so lay off, I’m doing my best.”

“Physical therapist?” Gladio knit his brow up, but when Noctis bent down and put his water bottle down, Gladio saw the back of his shirt lift, saw the ragged scar that slashed across his spine. 

When Noctis was having a good day, Gladio forgot that six years ago, Noctis had been bound to a wheelchair for months. He forgot that Noctis had been bedridden after being attacked by some horrible daemon in Tenebrae - that he’d nearly died. However, looking at Noctis slumped on the ground now, Gladio couldn’t help but remember seeing Noctis in the wheelchair, limping across the Citadel grounds, struggling to do so much as walk. He hadn’t pitied him - people just aren’t supposed to _pity_ a Prince - but he hated the obvious pain that plagued Noctis. Seeing Noctis in pain reminded him that there were things Gladio couldn’t protect him from, and that was a terrible feeling.

He had his share of gripes with Noctis, but then he was reminded that most of the time, Noctis had a reason for being the way he was. 

“Physical therapy?” Gladio dropped down to sit near him. “No shit.”

“Yeah,” Noctis sighed. “I’ve been having some pain walking, so Iggy called in my doctor, and my doctor said I should start therapy again. I hate it, but I need it. Dad says it’s the weather.” He managed a wry smile. “His knee hurts when the weather gets humid, too. Guess I kind of am an old man in that way, huh?” With that, Noctis flopped down onto his back, groaning as he touched ground. “But yeah, I had to do all sorts of stretches and bends, it sucked. I’m not used to being twisted into a pretzel, and the therapist treats me like I’m already fully healed. And I’m not.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “And I never will be. So, excuse me for being sore as hell.”

“Nah, I get it.” Gladio slapped Noctis’ shoulder. “See, when I do muscle work, especially a really vigorous workout, I need a day off. And from what I know, physical therapy is meant to work up the muscles in a way you’re not really used to, so you can improve the flexibility or how much you can move them. Same basic idea, just different applications.” He shrugged a little, shaking Noctis around a little through his grip on his arm. “So, next time you have physical therapy and it just, in your words, kicked your ass, you say so, okay?” He smiled fondly at Noctis, and Noctis weakly grinned back.

“Thanks.” 

Noctis’ smile always reminded Gladio just why Noctis was worth the effort. “Just remember, I’m here to help, always.”

Gladio stood and helped Noctis to his feet to escort him to the ring for sword form practice, but the thought lingered in his mind. Noctis’ old injury was always waiting in the wings to come make his life hell. Gladio knew it was his duty and privilege to protect Noctis from anything that might try to hurt him, but it was also something he took some measure of pride in and enjoyment from. He liked knowing that Noctis was safe and happy was, at least a little bit, because of him.

However, the old pain was something Gladio couldn’t protect him from, didn’t have a chance to protect him from when it happened and couldn’t stop now, and Gladio really hated that.

Now that the thought had occurred to him, it wouldn’t just remain at the edge of his mind. It hung there in the forefront of his mind like a lingering fog.

* * *

Gladio never knew what he was missing, until by some turn of fate, it reared up and smacked him in the face. 

An assassination threat against King Regis arrived in a lumpy package at the Citadel mailroom, which exploded with mysterious black powder almost the moment someone tried to open it. That was about all Gladio was told, and all he really needed to know. That, and that the entire Citadel was on high alert until a full investigation has been conducted and the King and Prince were on double-super-Blackwatch-plaid security until further notice.

This meant that when Noctis had to go to his physical therapist a few days into the lockdown, Gladio had to escort him and remain in the room for the entire session.

Noctis shifted and squirmed uncomfortably in his seat in the doctor’s office, legs curled tight under him as Gladio filled out all of the requisite release forms under supervision of the doctor’s assistant. Gladio could see him fidgeting and twisting the King’s personal seal in his twitching hand out of the corner of his eye as he signed each page. Gladio couldn’t tell if it was the pain making him twitchy or if it was something else. He nudged Noctis with his pen hand between signatures. “You scared about getting naked in front of me?” He winked. “Don’t worry, I won’t judge or compare you to me… much.”

Noctis snorted, but curled into himself a little more. “You know the ten-pack-ab look is only popular in leather bars, right?”

“And how would you know that, Princess?” Gladio clicked his tongue at Noctis, and Noctis cracked a little smile.

“Mostly because I’m popular everywhere else.”

Gladio lightly hit his shoulder. "I guess that just means I got one more hot spot than you!" Noctis laughed and slapped him back, and let Gladio keep filling out the paperwork.

Noctis used the King’s seal to stamp all of Gladio’s signatures, assurance that Gladio had the King’s authority to sign the paperwork even though Gladio was still only seventeen himself, but when it came time for Noctis to actually move into the therapy room, he halted in the chair. This time, Gladio fixed him with a look. “You’re not going to make me carry you, are you?”

The assistant raised an eyebrow at Gladio, but Noct sulked in his chair. “No. But I’m stuck. I had my knee under me too long, and…”

The assistant tutted Noctis with a few clicks of his tongue, and knelt by the chair. He rubbed Noctis’ knee with his thumb, pressing in on a few specific points. Noctis let out a wet gasp as his leg released, shooting outwards, foot flexed completely out. Gladio’s eyes went wide at the raw pain in Noctis’ face. 

“Oh, your Highness,” the assistant chided as he helped Noctis to his feet. “You know you need to come for therapy before you get quite this bad.”

Noctis groused under his breath, but limped heavily from the office to the therapy room. Gladio went to the two Crownsguard posted at the door to the clinic’s back offices to give simple instructions: “Anything you see or hear doesn’t leave this office.” 

Then, he followed Noctis into the therapy room. 

The therapist and his assistant had already stripped Noctis to his pants and laid him facedown on the table, exposing the scar that swathed across his back. Gladio felt a sick thrill at seeing it. Noctis kept it covered as much as he could, and, in all honesty, Gladio never wanted to lay eyes on it. It was a reminder of a time nobody had been able to protect Noctis, not him, not his father, not even King Regis himself had been able to save him from the daemon the Empire had set on the motorcade. 

The therapist and his assistant looked right past it. Instead, the therapist laid a warm compress on Noctis' back as the assistant placed a set of probes on his knee. Noctis shuddered a little as Gladio saw the assistant hook the probes up to some sort of humming battery. Gladio vaguely recalled reading something about electrotherapy, and saw Noctis shuddering on the table, hands white-knuckled where they gripped the edge. Gladio pressed his back to the door, not even bothering to listen as the therapist calmly explained to Noctis exactly what he was doing, testing his flexibility, stimulating the nerves, relaxing the muscles to increase the range of motion. Noctis was in obvious pain, and Gladio couldn’t do anything about it. 

“We’re going to hold this position for a little bit,” the therapist told him as he bent the knee up. Noctis choked on a gasp, a wet noise creaking out between his lips as he somehow gripped the table even harder. 

“Let’s see if we can get your spine to maximum rotation.” The therapist moved Noctis’ body like he was twisting a mannequin around, wrenching his back to full torsion. Gladio saw his face, pulled taut but with obvious fear and pain in his wide, unfocused eyes.

For an hour the therapist and his assistant twisted Noctis into different positions, bent him and stretched him all different ways, and finally called themselves done when Noctis was a limp, boneless pile of putty on the table. Gladio couldn’t watch most of it.

They were supposed to be making him feel better, why the hell did he look like he was in pain the entire time?!

Gladio loped over to the table as the therapist made some notes. Noctis was panting, eyes wet, but he still groped for where his clothes were folded on the side table. It took him obvious effort to drag his shirt back on. Gladio almost wanted to offer to get his chair.

Instead, he held out a hand. “Good show, Noct.” Noctis looked at his open palm, then smiled in a watery, weak way and gave him a high-five. “You’ll feel better once your muscles recover. Need a hand to your feet?”

“Nah, I got it.” Noctis tried to push himself off the table, but winced as he shifted. He turned on the table and tried to stand, but the moment he put weight on his feet, Gladio could see him wobbling. The therapist turned around, and tutted Noctis.

“Your Highness, you were too far gone! You need to keep up with your stretches if you expect to keep your mobility.” The therapist brought a wheelchair around, and Noctis’ face pulled uncomfortably. Gladio kept a straight face, but this time when he offered his hand, it was to guide Noctis into the chair. 

“Make sure he does his follow-up tonight,” the assistant told Gladio. “He’d lost a lot of flexibility.”

Gladio uncomfortably pushed Noctis out to the waiting car, as Noctis gripped the arms of the chair. All of a sudden, Gladio understood why Noctis hated his therapy. He should have done more to keep up with it, but when he left so miserable every time he had to go, it was no wonder Noctis only went when he thought he needed it. Gladio hated that for Noctis.

Now that it was in plain view, he wanted to change it.

* * *

Gladio had his share of freedom when it came to almost everything outside of Citadel duties, but he also had his share of expectations on him. He had gone to a private academy, at his father’s insistence, and graduated near the top of his class a semester early. However, Gladio now had his choice of schools. His father expected him to go to college for at least a two-year degree, but he was allowed to pick the school and the program. His career was basically predetermined, but as long as his education was something he could somehow apply to his work as Shield, his father would allow it.

He liked being Noctis’ Shield, especially when he could hold a sword in his other hand. There wasn’t much more he wanted. He agreed with his father that he wanted higher education, if only as proof that he was more than just a wall of muscle and determination meant to stand between Noctis and anything that might hurt him, but he wanted to find something that could make him better for his own sake, and for Noctis’. 

Gladio had considered a literature program, but his father had turned that down once already, insisting that Gladio could read on his own time (and would anyway) and just wanted an excuse to do it at college for a degree. He had been planning a big speech about how courses on literary criticism would be a good way to expand his vocabulary and improve his argumentative rhetoric. However, now Gladio was reconsidering.

Maybe there was something else he could do to protect Noctis from the pain he couldn’t halt with a swing of his sword and a raised shield.

There was a kinesthesia program at Insomnia University, with an option for a three-year program for a physical therapy accreditation. 

He could read on his own time. 

* * *

Noctis never really asked about Gladio's college studies, so Gladio didn't talk about them. Noctis asked his major, Gladio told him, "Kinesthetics," and Noctis snorted, then moved on. Noctis was preoccupied with high school, with his new school buddy, with his own problems. Besides, Gladio never knew when he might get called up to go outside the Wall, and if he went outside the Wall, he might not make it back. Better to leave it a surprise than to disappoint Noctis, anyway.

Gladio was still responsible for training Noctis. He just had to work their sessions in around his college courses and Noctis’ own schooling and commitments. However, as he kept going through college, he found himself becoming increasingly mindful of Noctis’ old injuries. When the weather was bad, Gladio found himself looking for the first signs that Noctis’ muscles were pulling, that he was struggling to walk, when his eyes squinted when he turned around and his mouth pinched the longer he had to be upright.

Sure enough, one winter, Noctis arrived for a training session with a distinct limp. Gladio crossed his arms and studied him carefully. “Alright, Princess, any reason you’re walking so dainty? Or is it that old injury acting up again?”

“It’s the injury.” Noctis dropped his jacket outside of the training area, then crossed his arms. “Can we get on with this?”

“Not so fast.” Gladio glanced sideways to his own bag, his school books and study materials, then back to Noctis. “Let’s stretch out first.” He spread out into a relaxed stand. “I want you to follow me.”

He started with a few simple yoga poses. Sun Salutation first. Noctis grimaced, but uneasily imitated Gladio, lifting his arms high overhead. Gladio bowed, touching his toes, and he looked up just long enough to see Noctis struggling to double over. “Take it slow,” Gladio told him firmly, but gently. “I want you to bend one vertebrae at a time. Concentrate on the feeling of your back folding, spreading, a little at a time.”

Noctis groaned, but Gladio saw his back relax a little as he folded himself, bit by bit. Gladio then coached him to roll back up and stretch his arms over head, then twisted his arms and legs left and right, one leg crossed behind the other with the same arm reaching overhead, then switching sides. He stretched both thigh flexors, then the lower legs. He showed Noctis how to hold Tree Pose, putting the sole of his foot on the side of his knee. Then, he showed him the starter version, putting his heel on his ankle and his toe on the ground. "I'll go high, you can stay low, let's just hold it for thirty seconds." Noctis managed the lower position with only a little wobbling on either side. When Gladio relaxed after they did the pose on both sides, he shook his whole body out, then looked to Noctis. 

Noctis' mouth was more relaxed, but Gladio had to ask: "Okay, how are you feeling now?"

"Better, actually." Noctis twisted at the waist a few more times, clearly still testing his back. "Was that the point of that?"

"Just wanted to loosen you up." Gladio grinned, proud of himself and satisfied with Noctis. Noctis smiled, too.

"It helped. Thanks, man."

"Anytime. I'll make sure we make time for you to stretch out at the beginning and end of our training sessions." Gladio dusted his hands and went to pick up his practice sword. "Alright, now you're ready, let's kick your can around the ring."

"No way, I'm ready for ya this time!" Noctis summoned his sword and took stance, limber and loose.Gladio grinned. 

"That's what I wanna hear. Come at me!"

With that, he and Noctis got down to sparring. Gladio could see Noctis moving more easily, almost like he was flying without the burden of his pain weighing him down. 

* * *

Two months before graduation Gladio got a call one rainy afternoon the day before a major exam: Noctis calling out of the blue. Gladio closed his book but tagged the page he was on with a bit of paper. "It's Gladio, Noct."

There was static silence for a few moments. Then, Noctis rasped, _"Hey, uh, good. Just the guy I wanted to talk to. Otherwise I would've called Prompto."_ Gladio reflexively snorted.

"What do you need?"

Another long beat. Gladio could hear Noctis breathing heavily. "Noct?"

_"S-sorry. I'm. Uh. Having a bad day."_

Gladio sat up slowly. "Bad pain day?"

Noctis was quiet for a minute, and Gladio waited. Noctis was rarely forthcoming, especially when it was important. _"Yeah,”_ he finally mumbled. _“I… I need to cancel training."_

Gladio exhaled through his nose, gripping the phone as he examined the situation in his head. He turned to his books stacked on his desk. He did need to study, so Gladio actually wouldn't have minded the day off. Except. "You been to your therapist?"

_"Appointment tomorrow."_ He sighed deeply. _"I'm not just being lazy this time, okay? The monsoon seasons got me messed up."_

"No, I believe you." Gladio picked up his books and started shoving them into his bag. "Is Iggy with you?"

_"He's at some meeting."_

"Figured." Usually Ignis would call when Noctis was this bad. "You want some company?"

There was static on Noctis' end again, and Gladio could hear Noctis' labored breathing again. Then, _"Don't you have anything better to do?"_

"You are my something better to do. You sound awful, I'm coming over to keep you company." Despite the declaration, Gladio waited for Noctis to answer. 

After a second, Noctis laughed weakly. _"Fine, I can't stop you. See ya soon."_

"Yeah." Gladio heard Noctis hang up first, then got his boots and slung his bag over his shoulder.

Gladio had a key to Noctis' apartment, just in case of emergencies that kept Noctis from answering his knock. He figured "in so much pain I'm cancelling training" counted as sort of an emergency, and he unlocked the door and announced himself: "I'm here. You on the sofa or bed?"

The room smelled clean and looked tidied, like Ignis had just picked up, except for a trash can left by the sofa with a few crumpled tissues sitting on the floor around it. Noctis no longer needed to answer. He did, raising a shaky hand over the side of the sofa. "I'm here."

Gladio put his umbrella against the wall, kicked his boots off at the door, and strolled over to the sofa where Noctis was laid out on his side, knees curled to his chest. There were tear tracks on his face. He rolled a bloodshot eye up towards Gladio. Gladio pursed his lips, and Noctis narrowed his eyes.

"Didn't believe me?" His voice was small and croaky. Gladio shook his head.

"I believed you. I didn't know it was this bad." Gladio touched his knee. "I know this might be the most comfortable position for you right now, but you're gonna get stuck like that. How about we unbend you a little?"

He circled the sofa and pressed down on Noctis’ knee in a few places. Noctis muffled a few weak noises into the cushion, then into his arm. Gladio could feel the tension in his sinew and his pinched muscles. He rubbed his knee a few times, gentle circles with his index and middle fingers at the joint, until he coaxed Noctis to unfold his leg with a sigh. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Noctis’ still sounded strained, but in a different way. Gladio nodded, then looked over the rest of Noctis’ form. 

“Mind if we get you in a better position?” Gladio leaned over so he could see Noctis’ face. Noctis’ mouth was drawn taut, eyes squeezed shut, but he nodded with his jaw clenched shut.

Gladio gingerly rolled Noctis to his side, put a pillow between his knees, and another under his head. "This'll align your spine, at least until you can relax some. Have you taken anything?"

Noctis shook his head. "Just the OTC stuff."

"When?"

Noctis shrugged, but it was a careful, minuscule motion. He was finally starting to relax a little, he clearly didn't want to be jostled out of his newfound comfort. "An hour ago?"

"Alright." Gladio thought carefully. "How about once your legs are loose again, we try to get you stretched out?"

"Sure, worth a try." Noctis flexed his foot and grimaced as the muscles in his leg pulled. "But can it wait a minute?"

"Yeah." Gladio got onto the sofa beside him, sitting near his head. "Let me know when you're ready to move." He took one of his books from his bag - a novel, not schoolwork, something he could put down easily - and began to read. Noctis watched him out of the corner of his eyes for a moment, until Gladio shot him a quizzical look. "What?"

"You're not pissed?" 

"No." Gladio shrugged. Noctis' gaze fell. "What makes you think I would be?"

Noctis mumbled, but it turned into, "always expect the best of me."

"You're right, yeah. I ask you to give me your best." Gladio tapped the side of his head with the spine of his book. "And today, this _is_ your best. When you're on your feet, then yeah, I want you to give it your all. Run hard, fight smart, show me everything you've got. But when you're having a bad day and it's hard for you to even exist, then I expect you to keep breathing and being, as best as you can." He opened his book again. "You'd do more if you could, but today, you can't. And I'm okay with that."

Noctis was quiet, then nodded. "Thanks." He shifted a little, then squirmed. "Hey. Can I…" He trailed off, and Gladio looked expectantly at him. Noctis didn't finish his sentence, but instead shifted his head off the pillow and onto Gladio's lap. Gladio felt a little jolt in his chest, and Noctis mumbled, "it's better."

Gladio raised his brow, but Noctis settled his head on Gladio's thigh. "Firm," he added, still sounding unsure. Gladio relaxed a little, then carded his fingers into Noctis' hair.

"You do what you gotta, Noct."

He lifted his book up and kept reading, but he didn't halt his gentle ministrations. Noctis made no move to evade his touch. They stayed like that for a long time, and Noctis relaxed in degrees against Gladio until he was finally able to move again. He flexed his toes first, then twisted around to look up at Gladio. 

"Can you help me with my stretches?"

"Of course." Gladio slid out from under Noct. "Need a hand?"

"Y-yeah." Noctis sat up slowly, and Gladio extended a hand. Noctis gripped it tight and used his hold to get him to his feet. When he was on his feet, however, Noctis spotted Gladio's school bag. His shoulders sank, but Gladio stood directly in front of him.

"Are you ready?” He followed Noctis’ sightline, then gave him a pointed stare. “I told you. I’m here for you right now. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing.”

Noctis’ mouth tightened, but he nodded. “Thanks.”

“Hey, if I weren’t here to bite at your heels, who would be?” Gladio grinned, then set his legs wide. “Let’s do your stretches.” 

Gladio helped Noctis through a set of gentle stretches, just until Ignis arrived back to review the meeting notes with him. Ignis smiled gratefully to see Noctis on his feet and walking with only a hint of his limp as Gladio packed up and pulled his boots back on, and halted him at the door.

“You’re taking your qualification examinations soon, are you not?” He kept his voice low as Noctis huddled over the notes on the table, bored or tired (or both) to the point of drowsing on the pages but still steadfastly trying to read. Gladio narrowed his eyes suspiciously, ready to counter any rebuke Ignis was about to offer. Instead, Ignis smiled. “Make certain to provide me with the full list of your internship options. I’d like to vet them personally. Oh, and do contact me if you need assistance studying.”

“I’m fine, but thanks.” Gladio patted his books. “I need to get back to it-”

“Shoo, shoo, go.” Ignis gently waved him off. “Do your best.”

It took Gladio a great deal of willpower not to laugh at the coincidence as Ignis shut the door behind him, and took his book out. He’d lost a few hours, but they weren’t wasted. It was never a waste when it came to Noctis.

* * *

A month into Gladio’s internship, there was a huge flurry of paperwork coming into the tiny little therapy office, flooding the secretaries with security reviews and background checks for all of the staff. He was pretty sure he saw Ignis coming in and out at least twice, but if Ignis saw him, he didn’t say anything.

Two months after Gladio graduated, Gladio noticed the slight limp catching up with Noctis again. His sprint time was dropping. “It’s the summer humidity,” he told Gladio when one of his sprints left him panting and holding his leg. “Don’t worry, I’m going to start seeing a therapist again soon.” 

Three months into Gladio’s internship and a month after he began officially doing duties as a therapist’s assistant, the therapist, Doctor Vesuvi, took Gladio aside to let him know: “We have a new patient coming in. Someone important, I believe he’s related to the Crown.”

“Ma’am,” Gladio replied, as respectful as could be and trying as hard as he could to keep the _“no, duh”_ out of his voice. “I’m related to the Crown.”

Dr. Vesuvi looked him up and down, and merely said, “Oh.” Then, she gasped. “Wait, you’re _that_ Gladiolus Amicitia?!”

“The one and only!” Gladio laughed. “If it is His Highness, well, I know him, so do you mind if I sit in?”

“Not at all!” Dr. Vesuvi stepped back, just as the bell over the door rang. Gladio heard three sets of footsteps entering, and two very familiar gaits. He stood to the side of the hallway and peered around the corner as Ignis approached the counter.

“I present Noctis Lucis Caelum, ma’am.” Ignis bowed and gestured towards Noctis. Noctis shifted uncomfortably, then took an unsteady step forward. 

“It’s a pleasure, Doctor.”

“The pleasure is mine, your Highness. Will your guard be remaining here?” 

“Um.” Noctis glanced towards Ignis, who nodded. “Yeah, they’re just going to stay by the door.”

“Please come with me, and my assistant and I can do an initial evaluation. Do you mind that my assistant is an intern?”

“No, not at all.” Gladio heard them coming closer, and braced himself. He stood tall, shoulders back, and brushed his plain blue scrubs down to smooth out any wrinkles, arms landing at his sides just as Noctis rounded the corner. He turned from the doctor to Gladio, and Gladio saw his eyes go wide and his shoulders drop. “Gl… Gladio?!” 

“The one and only.” Gladio crossed his arms and grinned. “You think I’ll still be popular in the leather bars dressed like this, or is this a totally different fetish?”

Noctis’ jaw dropped, as Dr. Vesuvi laughed. “Did he surprise you, your Highness?” 

“Y-yeah.” Noctis limped another step forward. “Look at you - is this for real?” He tugged at Gladio’s scrub sleeve, and Gladio chuckled and patted his back.

“It is. I told you what I was studying, right?” He wagged an eyebrow. “Kinesthetics, right?”

“I thought you were just studying muscles and body structure because you’re a bodybuilder and…” Noctis motioned vaguely at Gladio’s figure. “Not because-”

“Yeah, _because_ I’m getting certified in physical therapy.” Gladio moved his path on the back to an arm around the shoulder. “And speaking of which, we’re losing time on your evaluation. Doc?”

“Right this way, Prince Noctis.” 

Doctor Vesuvi led Noctis to her therapy room, with Gladio at his back urging him on. Noctis, however, kept looking up towards Gladio, bewildered, eyes wide, but Gladio didn’t dignify his confusion with anything more than a smug, satisfied smile. 

“Need a hand getting onto the table, Noct?”

“Sure,” Noctis muttered dully, and Gladio offered him a hand so he could seat himself. Noctis grimaced a little as his back trembled behind him, and Gladio held his arm out.

“Doc’s gonna wanna see the scar. Mind if I put your shirt up?”

Noctis took his shirt off and handed it to Gladio, but as Gladio turned to put it aside, Noctis grabbed his wrist. “Hey.” The silence trembled a little, as Noctis stared at Gladio, eyes soft and baffled. “Did you… did you do this for me?”

Gladio gingerly pulled his wrist back, then fluffed Noctis’ hair. “I wanted to be able to help you however I could. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m here for.” He grinned and folded Noctis’ shirt, then got a handful of heat packs ready. 

He helped Noctis bend and twist all the directions Doctor Vesuvi wanted to see him take, but he was familiar enough with Noctis’ movements to know when he’d reached Noctis’ current limit. He could see Noctis’ body tense up in the shoulders, saw his toes flex, and knew exactly where to stop. However, he would take Noctis to his limit, that was just how he operated - how else would they know what Noctis needed to surpass? As he let Noctis’ limbs relax again, he saw Noctis kept looking to him as Doctor Vesuvi took notes. 

Gladio stayed professional. In the therapy session, he was all business, no matter who was on the table. He did his job. Noctis, too, kept quiet, if only because he was more occupied with his pain. Gladio watched carefully for his expression to pull or pinch, but never let him tip over the edge of pain to agony. His job wasn’t to cause agony, though even Gladio could admit to himself that that one got a little more personal. 

His first job was to protect Noctis’ life. His second job, however, was more for making that life a little easier. 

It was after the session, when Gladio was laying Noctis on his front and putting a few heat packs on his back, shoulders, and legs, and when Doctor Vesuvi left the room, that Noctis reached for him again. “Hey, Gladio.” 

“What’s up?” Gladio returned with a towel and dabbed the sweat off of Noctis’ neck. He craned his head around to look at Gladio, and Gladio saw raw pain in his eyes.

“You…”

“Yeah?” Gladio’s chest got taut, and he froze up when Noctis pushed himself up onto his hand and rolled to face him, dislodging the heat packs.

“You really want to be a physical therapist?” 

“It’s gonna be a part-time thing, but yeah.” Gladio took up one of the fallen heat packs and pressed it to a space just to the right of Noctis’ old scar. Noctis groaned softly, but looked up at Gladio as Gladio stood close to maintain contact. “I like helping people, I know about the body anyway, and-”

Noctis shoved Gladio’s arm, but he didn’t budge, even when Noctis growled, “This is pity, isn’t it?”

Gladio shook his head and stared down into his face. “I could never pity you, Noct.” He knelt, not moving the hot pack from its place. Noctis was incrementally relaxing the longer it stayed, but the pain hadn’t left his eyes. “I want you at your best. If I can do anything to aid that, I will.” He pressed the hot pack a little closer as he took a knee to look up at Noctis. “I know you try as hard as you can, and I’m proud of you, but this is something I can do for you to help.” He smiled at Noctis, fond and open. “I’m gonna help you be better than your best.”

Noctis nodded, mouth sealed tight, then extended a hand towards Gladio. Gladio saw him hesitate, then slung his arm around Gladio’s neck and pulled him in. “Thanks, man.”

Gladio put his other arm around Noctis’ back, avoiding the space where the scar was - not because he disliked it but because he knew it was tender - and held him for a moment. “I’d do anything for you, you know that, right?”

“Yeah. It’s your job.”

“Nah.” Gladio patted his back. “It’s ‘cause you’re worth it.” He stood up, removing the heat pack - he knew not to leave it on too long. “Now, you mind if I work a few more stretches into our workouts? Now I’m qualified to know what I’m doing, I’m going to start keeping an eye on you a little closer.”

Noctis couldn’t stop smiling, though Gladio could see his face pull as he tried to pretend to look put out. “I guess I can’t stop you. Sure.” He gave up his false anger with a little laugh. “You’re the best, you know.”

Gladio laughed and handed him his shirt back. “Thanks for letting me prove it.”

* * *

Gladio was there for Noctis’ therapy, twice a week, more often whenever the humidity got bad, when the rain kicked in, or whenever Noctis got a re-injury. Gladio was determined to make sure he didn’t get re-injured, but accidents happened. 

When Noctis started to stiffen up, Gladio would make sure that the physical therapy stretches were part of their training routine, beginning and end. 

On days when Noctis was struggling a lot, Gladio would personally take him to the therapy office for an extra session, until Dr. Vesuvi gave Gladio permission to take a massage table to Noctis’ apartment to stretch him out. By the time Gladio was finished with his internship and fully qualified as a therapist’s assistant, he was the only one Noctis wanted to treat him (with only occasional evaluations by the doctor).

Gladio never minded giving Noctis his therapy, stretching him out. The pain Gladio used to see on his face when the other therapists would work on him never appeared, but Gladio suspected that this was because Noctis was being taken better care of outside of therapy. Even so, Noctis endured being fully stretched out and relaxed, and then Gladio would help him to his feet and sit him on the sofa with a warm pack and a blanket so the work had a chance to settle in his muscles and give him some rest.

“You’re the reason I can be as good as I am at my best, you know,” Noctis told him after one of their sessions, as Gladio settled on his sofa next to him with a tall glass of water. Noctis gratefully drank, then rested against his side. “If I didn’t have you pushing me from every direction, I wouldn’t be half as good as I am.”

“Yeah?” Gladio raised an eyebrow, his smile fond and affectionate almost despite himself. “Same.”

“I mean it.” Noctis lightly hit his leg. “You do so much for me. I have to live up to that to make it worth it for you.” He looked up to Gladio, contented and proud. “You understand, right?”

“Yeah.” Gladio wound his arm around Noctis’ shoulders, not just to keep the heat pack in place, but so Noctis could feel his warmth too. “You know it.”

Noctis had his flaws, but Gladio did too. Noctis couldn’t be perfect, and Gladio couldn’t magically do everything for Noctis. Even so, Noctis had a reason for being the way he was and was willing to work on himself to be better. Gladio was willing to do more too. 

He had his reasons, and the way his heart felt when Noctis smiled at him like that was one of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "Therapy," by Armin van Buuren.


End file.
